DRUNK READER X SUKUNA
By the time the front door opened, it was nearly two in the morning, and Sukuna already knew he was about to be irritated. He’d heard a car pull into the driveway ten minutes earlier and assumed you’d finally gotten tired of whatever stupid thing had kept you out this late. What he hadn’t expected was Shoko practically dragging you through the front door by your arm while you stumbled over your own feet and laughed at something that apparently only existed inside your head. “Here,” Shoko said flatly, shoving your weight toward him.
“Take her.” Sukuna barely caught you before you collapsed face-first onto the floor. The smell hit him immediately. Alcohol. A concerning amount of alcohol. “How drunk is she?” he asked. “Honestly?” Shoko looked exhausted. “I stopped trying to figure that out an hour ago.” You suddenly lifted your head. “I saw a horse.” Shoko sighed. “There was no horse.” “You weren’t there.” “I was literally with you.” “Agree to disagree.” Sukuna stared at both of you. “Get out.” Shoko looked relieved. “Gladly.” She turned to leave. “Wait,” you gasped dramatically. “Don’t go.” Shoko paused. You pointed at her very seriously. “You have my phone.” Shoko reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. “No, you have your phone.” “Oh.” You thought about that. “Can I still have it?” Shoko handed it to you and left before she got dragged into another conversation. The second the door closed, you stared at your phone screen for nearly thirty seconds before turning it upside down. Then sideways. Then upside down again. “Why isn’t it working?” Sukuna glanced over. “It’s locked.” “Oh.” Another pause. “How do I unlock it?” “With your passcode.” “Right.” You nodded confidently. Five seconds later you looked up. “What’s my passcode?” He considered letting natural selection take its course. Instead, he grabbed your phone before you somehow managed to order a lawn mower online. “Go upstairs.” “No.” “Why?” “The stairs are moving.” Sukuna looked at the completely stationary staircase. “The stairs are not moving.” “Maybe not for you.” Somehow, despite your passionate argument against staircases, you still managed to make it upstairs. Mostly because Sukuna physically prevented you from falling down three separate times.
The second you reached the hallway, however, you became distracted by a framed picture hanging on the wall. “Who’s that?” Sukuna looked at the photo. It was you. “That’s you.” “No it’s not.” “It literally is.” You stepped closer. Squinted. “Damn.” Then you pointed at your own face in the photograph. “She’s kinda pretty.” Sukuna walked away. He refused to participate in this conversation. Unfortunately, you followed him. “Do you think she’d like me?” “Who?” “The girl in the picture.” “You are the girl in the picture.” “Oh.” You nodded thoughtfully. “Then probably.” He was beginning to understand why Shoko looked like she needed a vacation. By the time you reached the bedroom, Sukuna thought the worst was over. It wasn’t. Not even close. The first thing you did was sit on the floor instead of the bed. “Why are you sitting there?” “I fell.” “Fair enough.” Five minutes later you somehow became fascinated by the ceiling fan. Sukuna looked up from his phone to find you lying flat on your back staring at it. “What are you doing?” “Watching.” “Watching what?” “The fan.” “Why?” “It’s spinning.” “That’s generally what fans do.” “Crazy.” Then you laughed so hard you nearly choked on absolutely nothing. Sukuna watched in silence as you spent the next ten minutes finding the existence of a ceiling fan hilarious. When that finally stopped, you abruptly sat up and announced that you needed a snack. This turned out to be a mistake. The kitchen became a disaster zone within minutes. You opened the refrigerator and stood there staring into it like it contained the secrets of the universe. “What are you looking for?” Sukuna asked.
“I don’t know.” “Helpful.” You grabbed a carton of eggs. “Not that.” You put the eggs back and pulled out a bottle of ketchup. “Also not that.” The ketchup went back. Then came shredded cheese.
Then orange juice. Then somehow a lemon. For reasons nobody would ever understand, you became emotionally attached to the lemon. “He’s coming upstairs with me.” “No.” “His name is Gregory.” “Absolutely not.” Somehow Gregory the lemon made it upstairs anyway. Twenty minutes later Sukuna found you asleep for approximately forty-five seconds before waking up in a panic because you couldn’t find Gregory. The lemon was in your lap. Once Gregory was recovered, you became convinced you needed to call someone. “Who?” Sukuna asked. “I don’t know.” “Then why are you calling them?” “Feels important.” Fortunately, your phone died before disaster could strike. Unfortunately, that led to a twenty-minute discussion about whether phones got tired. “Maybe he’s sleeping,” you said sadly, holding the dead phone. “It’s electronics.” “That’s kinda judgmental.”
At some point you ended up wrapped in a blanket sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor while attempting to teach Gregory life lessons. Sukuna ignored it until he heard, “And that’s why taxes are scary.” Then he had questions. “You don’t pay taxes.” “Neither does Gregory.” “He’s a lemon.” “Exactly.” Eventually the energy started fading. Your words became slower. Your eyes drooped. You forgot what you were saying halfway through sentences. One minute you were trying to explain why raccoons probably had secret meetings, and the next you were sitting quietly staring at nothing. Sukuna noticed the shift immediately. The chaos disappeared first. Then the laughter. Then the endless stream of nonsense. What remained was just exhaustion. You curled up on the edge of the bed, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. Gregory sat beside you like a loyal companion. “I’m tired,” you mumbled. “Clearly.” “Today was weird.” “You don’t remember half of today.” “That’s probably for the best.” Sukuna couldn’t argue with that. You stared at the ceiling for a while. Then at him. Then back at the ceiling. “Thanks.” He frowned. “For what?” You shrugged. “Stuff.” Before he could ask what that meant, your eyes closed. A minute later you were asleep. Completely unconscious. Gregory the lemon rolled off the bed and hit the floor. Neither of you noticed. Sukuna looked at the lemon. Looked at you. Then shook his head. Tomorrow morning was going to be a nightmare.